


And Then He Ran Into My Knife

by apropensityforcharm



Series: Season 6 Reaction Fics [9]
Category: Glee
Genre: 6x09 reaction, Canon Compliant, Humour, M/M, or an attempt at humour anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 00:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3467354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apropensityforcharm/pseuds/apropensityforcharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kurt decides then and there that he will be going to court for murder in a week’s time. He’ll plead insanity. And win."<br/>6x09 reaction. In which Kurt thinks 'it could be worse' and then he and Blaine promptly meet Myron, newest member of the New Directions. Next time don't tempt fate, Kurt. Canon compliant; Klaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then He Ran Into My Knife

Being back in Lima after their honeymoon in Provincetown is... nice.

At least, that’s what Kurt is telling himself.

Sure, Andrew Sullivan’s cabana house had been gorgeous and equipped with its own team of help staff, and he’s pretty sure Blaine didn’t stop smiling once, and his new constellations of freckles from the beach have already started to fade, but really. Grey, dreary Lima is practically a comfort after spending two weeks surrounded by a turquoise ocean sparking pieces of sun off its surface like a fisherman’s net of diamonds, and clean Egyptian cotton sheets every night to sleep in, and so  _so_ much Blaine, around him and on top of him and in him...

But Lima is  _nice._

Maybe if he grits his teeth long enough, he’ll start to believe it.

On other hand, Blaine  _is_ standing right beside him, hand in his own, the metal of his wedding band pressing against Kurt’s fingers, so really, it could be worse.

Blaine squeezes his fingers as the two of them stare up at the doors of William McKinley. ‘Back to real world?’ he asks.

‘Back to the real world,’ Kurt agrees.

They push the doors open and inside they’re immediately assaulted with a hundred voices yelling over the top of each other to be heard,  _way_ too much Lynx body spray, and a general lack of humanity anywhere to be found. Blaine narrowly misses being walloped in the head by an errant football, and Kurt immediately decides the  _real_ world can go stuff itself, because  _he_  wants his cabana house back, dammit.

Blaine exhales loudly beside him, grips his hand harder, and then marches off through the crowds and towards the choir room, dragging a reluctant Kurt behind him. They’re not even half way there when they hear the commotion; someone is yelling very,  _very_ loudly and if he’s correct, the noise is coming from their choir room. He frowns at Blaine – Glee club shouldn’t start for another hour. He knows because he stopped Blaine from initiating a quickie before they left because he was  _that_ determined to be early.

Just as they reach the door to the choir room, Rachel storms out of the door and slams it shut behind her, leaning back against it with her eyes closed, breathing hard out of her nose. Kurt and Blaine exchange a glance.

Rachel’s eyes open after a moment and when her eyes land on the pair, her face crumples in what Kurt would swear is relief if he didn’t know her better. A moment later, a tiny ball of skirts and brown hair hurtle into Kurt’s arms and he stumbles backward at the force of her hug.

‘Oh my  _god_ , thank god you’re here, I have missed you  _so much,_ this life is not worth it without you, I swear, Kurt – ‘ Rachel babbles and Blaine gives Kurt a startled look over her head.

‘Don’t ever leave me again, Kurt,’ Rachel says fervently, looking at him with wide eyes. ‘Don’t you ever leave me, you hear me, I am  _coming with you on your next honeymoon –_  ‘

‘Okay,’ Kurt says, extricating himself from her hold with difficulty (because seriously, the woman has a grip like a  _boa constrictor_ ). ‘As happy as I am to see you again, and I assure you that I am, I feel like we’re missing a piece of the puzzle here, honey.’

‘It’s him,’ Rachel whispers, latching onto Blaine’s arm instead. Blaine winces. Rachel’s terrified eyes flick to the closed choir room door.

Kurt looks at the door warily, wondering if it’s housing an untamed lion, or maybe an Anthony Hopkins who hasn’t eaten in three days. Blaine jerks his head at the door and raises his eyebrows at Kurt, a silent instruction to check out it, so Kurt steps carefully to the door and peers in through the peephole.

Inside, a tiny child is sitting on one of the chairs, arms folded tightly across his chest and a stormy expression on his face.

He pulls back, nonplussed.

‘Um, Rachel?’ he asks. ‘Why is there a preschooler sitting in our choir room?’

Rachel, who has buried herself in a very startled Blaine’s chest, pulls back to look at him again. ‘That,’ she says in a deadened voice that speaks of horrors untold, ‘is Myron Muscowitz.’

Once again, Kurt and Blaine exchange a glance. ‘Okay,’ Kurt says again. ‘That doesn’t really explain – ‘

‘He’s thirteen years old, he’s the superintendent’s nephew, and he joined Glee club last week,’ Rachel rallies off.

Kurt frowns. ‘Wait, you added members without consulting me?’

‘I didn’t have a choice, Kurt!’ Rachel exclaims, grabbing desperately for his hands and holding them in a death grip. ‘They made me! You have to believe me, I would  _never – ‘_

‘ _Ow,_ okay,  _Rachel – ‘_ Kurt jerks his hands back and rubs at them reproachfully. ‘I believe you, alright? Jeez.’ He looks at Blaine, who shrugs, seemingly content to sit back and let whatever happens happen. ‘I guess I should probably meet my new student, huh?’

Rachel gasps.

‘Take Blaine with you,’ she says shrilly, shoving Blaine at Kurt bodily. ‘He’s in a bad mood. He won’t stop  _yelling._ ’ Kurt catches his disgruntled husband, exchanges one final, bemused look, and takes a step toward the door. It can’t be that bad, right? The kid is literally half his height. He’s clearly just a twig with a bad attitude. Rachel is the biggest drama queen he’s ever met. She exaggerates  _everything._

Somehow, Rachel’s hands clasped over her mouth while they approach the door isn’t exactly comforting.

Turning the handle sort of feels like stepping on a live landmine, but they make it inside without incident. Nothing happens except for the kid’s head flicking towards the door and his scowl deepening.

So far, so good. Kurt expels a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

‘Who,’ the kid says in a voice akin to speaking to a cockroach, ‘are  _you_?’

Alright. Maybe not so good.

Kurt stands taller and pulls his blazer straight, hoping he looks a lot more authoritative than he feels. ‘My name is Kurt and this is my husband Blaine,’ he says in a bright voice that sounds artificial to his own ears. ‘I’m Rachel’s co-director. And you’re Myron, right?’

Myron huffs and turns his face away, sticking his nose in the air. ‘I expect top notch performance in my choir directors,’ he snaps, ‘so I hope you’re better than that  _useless bitch_ out there – ‘

‘Hey!’ Blaine interjects at the same moment that Kurt barks, ‘You watch your mouth, young man!’

Myron’s face goes red. ‘Watch my mouth?’ he hisses, sounding affronted at the very thought of it. ‘You’re not my mother, you can’t TELL ME WHAT TO DO!’ he yells, his voice rising into a screech so loud by the end that Kurt swears his ears pop. And okay – now he might have something of an idea of what Rachel was on about. ‘God, you’re going to be just as  _annoying_ as she is, aren’t you? Tell me why I shouldn’t fire all of you right now!  _Right now!_ ’

They’ve been in there all of two seconds and the kid has already turned into a snarling wildcat. It’s with a flash of horror that Kurt realises that he’s going to have to deal with him for the  _entire rest of the year._ For a moment, he’s madly jealous of Blaine, who gets to leave this place and go back to his neat, orderly Warblers whenever the hell he wants. Kurt is  _stuck_ with this kid. He’s seriously wishing for his cabana house right now.

‘We – we are your superiors!’ Blaine splutters even as he takes a half step back toward the door. ‘Don’t you think it would be nice to show some respect?’

Myron jumps down from his seat – and Christ, his legs weren’t even touching the floor – and starts stalking towards them. ‘ _He’s_ my superior,’ he sneers, jerking his head towards Kurt. ‘ _You’re_ just his  _husband_.’ And somehow, after a week of passing that word back and forth between them like a particularly precious jewel, the little brat has managed to turn it into an insult. Kurt  _hates_ him.

Myron turns on Kurt. ‘And  _you_ – ‘ he spits, ‘you better be worth the money we pay you because otherwise I’ll have you  _out on the street in two seconds_!’

‘He doesn’t get paid any money,’ Blaine says faintly.

Kurt feels like the situation has gotten slightly out of hand. ‘I’m a volunteer, Myron,’ he explains, holding his hands out like trying to soothe a wild animal. ‘Which means that I’m here because I honestly care, and I’ll always try my best – ‘

And that apparently pushes Myron over the edge, because he begins  _howling,_ ‘I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR BEST! I’M HERE TO WIN NATIONALS AND IF I DON’T THEN IT IS  _YOUR_ FAULT AND I WILL SUE YOU, GOT IT? GOD! USELESS! EVERYONE IS  _USELESS_!’

He launches himself towards the piano and even though Kurt lurches towards him with a yelp, he isn’t able to get there in time before Myron is shoving the stacks of carefully organised sheet music off the piano and into the air, sending a whirling mess of paper to spray in a chaotic fan right across the ground.

Kurt decides then and there that he will be going to court for murder in a week’s time. He’ll plead insanity. And win.

He doesn't care, he's going to  _kill_ the demon spawn.

He glances back towards the door and spots a fringe and a pair of wide brown eyes peeking through the window before Rachel quickly drops out of sight. He suddenly understands what she’s been going through for the past week. He’s pretty sure even cannibalistic Anthony Hopkins would be easier to deal with than this.

Blaine’s mouth has dropped wide open, completely aghast at the tiny boy breathing like a winded bull in the middle of the choir room. They watch as Myron pulls himself upright, straightens his clothing, and turns towards them with a tight smile that looks more like a smirk. ‘I look forward to working with you, Kurt,’ he says, disarmingly sweet. ‘I look forward to murdering our competition with your help.’

And with that, he prances off to the door, slamming it open and giving Rachel a disdainful sniff when she squeaks in surprise, before he struts off down the corridor.

For a moment, none of them say anything at all, for once truly speechless.

‘Kurt,’ Blaine whispers eventually into the horrified silence. ‘Kurt, I don’t think I want to have kids anymore.’

Kurt just wants his damn cabana house back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudus and/or comments would be appreciated. <3


End file.
